Back again and it feels great.

           And in creatures of the night he finds his comforts from fright,

Once again he falls down and falls down and falls down and falls,

Down…

I wanna see her morality on fire and I want,

Her passion to perspire.

Perspire, yeah

Once again he falls down and falls down and finds,

Dirt on the ground smells like passion,

When he falls down in her arms.

The brilliance of it all brings

Light to the stall,

When the stable doors close

He’s alone in the crowd.

He perspires.

Rest Easy

'What wisdom, what knowledge' I thought watching as the Comet passed overhead. I sat on the balcony just as astounded as the person next to me. I would never experience this again in my life, but I still failed to believe it. It hovered out of sight and I put my lips to her neck as we walked into the house. The last of the night was a blur. Vodka, tits, the sounds of humans.

Driving home the next morning it hit me and on a township road outside of the city, I had to pull over. I stepped out from the truck and hurled the previous night into the ditch. I didn't give a fuck who passed, I sat in that ditch for at least half an hour reflecting. This is what mattered.

That comet was nothing- trickery. Who gives a fuck if we don't see it again, yet I was so astounded. Surely it was just a punchline. I laughed to myself and then realized I was only laughing AT myself. What a fool.

Moving through the endless night, it was aimless just like me. It wasn't smart, it was just matter. Fucking science my friend and I was no different. It burned just like me. An infinite struggle making art of its pity and self loathing. Light another cigarette son, you better enjoy it.

"Do you regard me as a puzzle?" She suggested, drifting towards the darkened corner of the room. I didn't answer her, rolling to the other side of the bed I dozed off.

I knew she was right, but for a while I ignored her proposition. I had dreams of pulling her apart, re arranging the pieces. She didn't enjoy cigarettes anymore. In fact she hated breakfast cereal too, to the extent that she couldn't discuss the changes made to the design of the boxes in the cupboard.

Today more than any other I wanted to discard of the piece she incorporated yesterday. it resided long enough. I hadn't once felt it appropriate to the general landscape in the developing picture. What really bothered me was, the piece which I had wished to integrate, never seemed to fit. I couldn't force it, and believe me I tried, for it would fall as a focal point of scrutiny.

The picture on the box always proved me wrong. Her comment flashed in my ears. I awoke within a dream, at which point I followed her into the corner and ripped the portrait apart piece by piece. Frantically I worked at it but as they fell the pieces disappeared! If I couldn't do it nobody could.

I awoke slowly making my way downstairs to the kitchen. There she sat in the sunlight, cigarette lit, coffee mug in hand. "Honey did they change the rabbit on the box?"

Heart Pumps Blood

"Lets not let this get weird, alright?" she whispered into his chest.
'Balls in your court now, man.' He thought to himself. Sure, you got it sweetheart. Had he pulled the trigger? Had he really just said that out loud or just thought it? Either way she came out unscathed. In her fervor she was bulletproof, relentlessly bulletproof. 
'What if shes in love with me?' he ran it through his head numerous times. 'What if she wants more? I'm not taking this into an extra inning.' His confidence seemed to simply take it blow by blow. Sometimes it worried him. Was he bulletproof too?

         She always went out dancing on Saturdays with the girls from work at which time I could be found perched in my chair draped in all but a worn throw and my conscious mind. I loved these nights although, there was a time when I had despised -no feared them. The week strode on as normal but the sense that I would be left to my own demise come Saturday had put a sock in my throat.

         We didn't fuck anymore and I knew it was my fault. She never read to me either. I had enjoyed that I suppose, in fact I often still requested it to no avail. "Dear I'm tired, let go of my eyelids." Pathetic. I was pathetic. A poor sap of my own creation.

         Ahem, so here I sit draped in self loathing, biting my frustration -my struggle- like a fucking ball gag. The night progressed and as the glass drained and filled, drained and filled, repeat... etc. I dug for sympathy like a rabbit. Run from the sun. I hadn't even jacked-off in a month, possibly more. Who was she fucking? Not herself. She was still beautiful -naive. Me? Nah. Self conscious had whithered away anything worth fucking. Anything worth loving, lost to me when I turned out the lights. Should've pulled the trigger when I had the chance. Oh yes, on down the freeway, fucking high ho silver! On to Jackson baby, you best believe it!

         Door open/shut. A cold chill arrived with her presence. Her blackened figure appeared in the doorway. I couldn't see her face but her voice told me she had been listening all night long. "Dear, why have you shot yourself time and time again?" "Shot myself you say?" "Mhmm..." "You're funny..."
       

Balance

            “Balance huh? Who the fuck are you to tell me what balance is?” At that exact moment I wanted to put her opinion to the grater. I was not composed.

            “I mean just think about it. You read those fucking comic books a-a-and all I’m trying to say is you’re too old to be doing those things.” She rebutted.

            “That is my balance. No! Wait, why would even use that word? It stinks, its putrid. Fuck you!” I slammed the phone down with authority. I hadn’t wanted to talk anyway. Balance was on my mind now. Shit, I could puke. They were just a stimulant. Nice pictures, well written dialogue. I stressed too much when I was on the ground. The ground was dirty. It wrecked my shoes.  

Untitled

            “… And yes brothers, her hand was indeed tepid as I-“

“Could you see her face??” exclaimed the brute from the corner.

“Let me finish you fucking oaf!” (he) swiveled his head as if to peer over his shoulder. “Get him out of my sight.” He turned his eyes upon the room once again. It was suffocating in silence as if draped over with a moth-bitten, blackened throw. Wretched scent.

“Ah yes, that’s quite right now, aye?” Raised eyebrow, he groped their confidence, as if to expect a reply. The rumor had spread, unto those which gazed upon such eye were to drown in tears. Once heard of it myself, to which I exclaimed “I wouldn’t believe it if I witnessed it!” How petty, I suppose….

(he) dropped his right hand toward the dish placed upon the lectern, not once disengaging his grip from the crowd, for yet it still stood gasping in his grasp. I suppose, a fly’s scratching wings would set his image ajar to which he would simply snatch it from flight and devour it briskly. Such would happen to the Swine from the corner, I reckon.

From what I am able to recall this day, the room had its gaze fixed away from him.  All but myself for I was oddly enough, fixed upon his hair. His hairline was receding my friends! ‘Resembling what exactly?’ I thought. I stood in question at my proposal, what will he perform pertaining to such an abominable flaw? At this point I gazed toward the rest of the room. Fuck sakes! They were all receding, falling back, failing to hold the line! They all looked like idiots! Ha! Surely, I didn’t laugh vocally, for certain my soul would’ve gone to the plate!

“… Her innocence most certainly was abused. Though, in her desperation and heartbreak, I assured her she had nothing left to fear.” (he) concluded.

At this point my attention was once again pierced by his lure. ‘Innocence?’ I thought. The content of the engagement had escaped me. No, rather, I couldn’t remember the last point I was engaged at all. For the time had disappeared quicker than the brute from the corner. Little could I care, for it was his fault wasn’t it? Poor fly.